Position; 07 degrees, 52 minutes South; 136 degrees, 14 minutes West (149 NM)

The GPS just ticked over to 199 nautical miles to go! That puts us in Hiva Oa around midnight tomorrow. Not wanting to go into a fairly primitive area at night, we’ll lay offshore for the night and make landfall after sunrise on Tuesday. Wow, what a trip. No doubt it will take a few days to gain perspective. We’re too close to the rocking and rolling and hanging on right now to think about it much.

Cliff, you’re “good luck fishing in the Southern Hemisphere” statement worked! The Mahi we caught yesterday broke a string of very mediocre fishing. I looked at the pictures today, and the fish was more like 4 feet long than the three feet I reported last night. Definitely a good size fish. I’ve got two big fillets marinating right now in soy, wasabi, ginger sauce. Can’t wait. Fresh fish!

Today’s been a nice windy day. Around 20 knots and 8-12 foot seas are moving us along pretty well. Last night was lots of beautiful stars for my watch. However, Ann got the squally early morning watch (0700-1100) and saw several where she had to reduce sail and close the hatches due to wind and rain. We’ve been working on her sail handling and she now can furl the jib without waking me. She really knows her way around the boat now. She does the Shortwave net call, and has her own net of friends for another social call around 1700 every day, knows the VHF, works the radar, works the GPS, can set the wind vane and adjust it as needed to change course and now can furl the jib and catch fish. Pretty soon if I’m not careful she won’t need me to run the boat and I’ll be demoted to swabbing the decks and gutting the fish. Hey….wait a minute. That’s what I did yesterday! It’s starting to happen!

Just wanted to add that the second squall included a full rainbow arching across the horizon – clearly showing us the way to Hiva Oa!!!

Position: 06 degrees, 35 minutes South; 134 degrees, 06 minutes West (159 NM today)

Update at 1930 local time, right as we were making dinner, we hooked a Dorado. Ann pulled it in and it threw the hook right next to the boat. Bummer. We tossed the hook over the side, got going again and before we knew it, there’s another one on the hook. Ann brought this one in as well and we successfully landed it. A good three footer. We now have twelve large Mahi fillets in the freezer and fridge. Yay!

This blog from Ann:

They say it takes twenty-one days to make a habit. Well today is day 21 on the Pacific Ocean and things are always changing slightly. After 120 watches we are used to the watch habit.

Fun night watches go like this. Bob wakes me up by gently shaking my leg. “Yes, yes. I’m up.” I struggle to sit up as Charisma heels to one side. I get steady on my feet. There is always an adjustment period of a minute or two , then “monkey bar” my way to the bathroom. Fortunately Charisma has great handholds along the ceiling. By the time I get out of the bathroom Bob has started some hot water so I can make my hot drink of choice to help me stay awake/wake up. This watch I choose hot chocolate. I take time to find a snack too. The snack cabinet is full of granola bars, gorp, nuts and dried fruit. It even has some candy. Bob has found the Oreos – his favorite. I go for the bag of mini wheats

I find my clothes, put on my PFD and before we turn off the ceiling light I get my headlamp and switch it to red light – not so harsh on the eyes. I take a step or two up the companion way and find my harness and clip in. Then the juggling begins as I start relaying up my drink and goodies including my choice of entertainment. Some nights it is the IPod or a book. This watch I am playing on my IPad. I had some killer games of Scrabble last night!

Precariously I reach out to the binnacle and put my drink in one of the cup holders. It is a long stretch and I can just make it if Charisma is not heeling too much. Oops. Forgot to refill my water bottle. I unclip and go back down the stairs and fill’er up. Back up the companion way again and I am ready to ride the bongo board! I hang on tightly to the binnacle as I work my way around it to the other side of the helm. To get readjusted to the rocking and rolling I stand with one hand holding on and am taken back to my childhood memories of days spent at Aunt Geri’s riding her bongo board. (Bob and I figure that these don’t exist anymore due to liability issues.) On Aunt Geri’s board it was a quick back forth, back forth and maybe, if you are really good it lasts for 30 seconds before you clunk to a stop. On Charisma I am the bongo master! When I am feeling really steady I let go with both hands and feel supreme. Then Charisma takes a hard roll and teaches me humility. Smartly I give in quickly and grab on again.

On my bongo board the wind blows through my hair. It’s so refreshing. Sometimes you can smell fish in the air. Sometimes I am hit by spray. I look up as I balance and am in awe of God’s celestial art show. I look for my favorite – the Big Dipper and find that down here it starts to disappear into the horizon early. But that’s okay because the Southern Cross is showing off at due south. I am treated to an exploding star that looks like someone flicked on a light and then it fizzles its way to the horizon. Wish made and I am still riding the bongo board. Aunt Geri is cheering me on!

From this great position I also get to do the check-in on the navigation pod. We are on course, steering 225 – Wilson only seems to give Bob a hard time. Wow! 410 miles to Hiva Oa! Winds are consistent and comfortable at 12-17 knots out of the south east and Charisma just logged an 8.8 speed-over-ground as she surfs down another wave. The wave sends phosphorescent lace across the dark water. It is gorgeous to watch.

Hanging on tightly I step up onto the cockpit seat and work my way back around to the front of the binnacle and facing the bow I remain standing and hold on to the edge of the dodger and enjoy the ride. From this vantage point you can see the bow lift and bob as Charisma carves through the waves. These are the times I wish I was on a boat next to us so I could see how graceful we look. Charisma surfing, the mast playing connect the dots with the stars and me, like a puppy dog, hanging my head in the wind taking it all in. Making that mental picture because you could never capture this on film.

I am the Bongo Queen!

Position: 05 degrees, 19 minutes South; 131 degrees, 50 minutes West (151 NM)

It’s 0400 local time. Charisma’s bounding along leaving a wide, white swath in the dark night water under a 360 degree canopy of stars. The familiar Big Dipper to my left and the new Southern Cross to my right. I’m keeping her a bit throttled back tonight after last night’s squally episode. As usual we have a double reefed main and 40% rolled jib since this configuration works pretty well at the current 15-20 knots, but will tolerate up to 30 knots of wind. Still, we’re moving along nicely and I’m in a parallel groove listening to Bob Dylan’s “Thunder On The Mountain” on my iPod. Classic driving rock and roll a la Chuck Berry.

Boat’s have personalities and Charisma is no exception. Some days they will do anything you ask, other days they can be very contrary. Wilson the wind vane also has his own personality and I think Wilson and Charisma are in cahoots! Most of the time, I can get them to go the course I want, but sometimes, no matter what I do or what I change, they sail the course they want to sail. Last night, I was trying to sail 225 degrees magnetic. Wilson and Charisma wanted to go 210, which is OK, but not quite where we want to go. So, we’re on 210. I retrim the jib and main a bit, tweak the wind vane adjustment as well as the wheel and; there we go. We’re on 225. I watch the compass for a while and we’re good, so I go do something else and with a wink and a nod, Wilson and Charisma take off on their own. I come back to the helm and look. 210 degrees. So, I change a few more things to rebalance the boat, get her going on 225 degrees, watch for a while. OK, good. Now it’s working. I go off and come back about 20 minutes later and; what the heck!! We’re back to 210!! Oh well, sometimes it’s best to just go with the flow, so I leave Wilson and Charisma to their own for the night. They were still on 210 this morning after Ann’s watch and the ride was getting a little rough, so I changed it to 225. This time they set up and we’ve been going 225 all day. Go figure.

Speaking of the wind vane, as I mentioned Wilson does all the steering. Some folks will wonder; “what the heck do YOU do all day then?” Well, on a long trip like this it’s about voyage management and not steering. You’re monitoring the wind and waves for correct course and sail configuration. Too much sail and the boat won’t track no matter how hard you try and not enough sail and it similarly won’t steer well (and you go too slow!). There’s also periodic planning for weather and navigation. At least once/day I get a weather report on the radio to check whether there are any weather surprises we need to avoid and I also check our position and course on the chart; cross checking against the GPS Chartplotter and making sure we have a hard copy of our latest position in case the electronics quit.

One of the more time consuming tasks in general boat maintenance. Checking rigging to make sure things are tight (found a shackle on the mainsheet the other day that had backed out and was 1/8″ from letting go) and lubricate squeaks. There’s also a lot of systems management. Checking the water and if the tank is less than 75% full, running the watermaker which requires a set of tasks to start it up as well as shut it down. Power management is a big one. We run on our batteries. If they go dead, we’re stuck without navigation, refrigeration and the capability to make water, so I spend a fair amount of time watching them. I adjust the solar panels during the day to try and maintain an optimum angle for charging. At night, when the panels go dormant, I deploy the hydro-electric system. This is a propeller on a very stiff rope that turns a generator which provides electricity for the batteries. Our last alternative is the engine which has an alternator that will charge the batteries. In the 20 days we’ve been out though, we’ve only had to resort to the engine two times during a period in the ITCZ when it was 100% cloudy for two days and we were using the radar a lot. There are a bunch of other secondary systems and then Ann keeps things going (on top of keeping her watches) with laundry, bread baking cookie baking and yogurt making which are things that really make the difference between “roughing it” and having a pretty enjoyable time afloat. Special treats like that out here really help morale when it’s rough and squally and it’s easy to get irritable. She also has developed an incredible spreadsheet that helps track our inventory of food and supplies. Each day this needs to be updated for usage. So far, we are doing well with finding things! And, thank goodness, she makes breakfast and lunch and (most importantly) does all of the dishes. This is no easy feat giving the rocking and rolling of the boat. It takes a lot of balance to do simple things!

Speaking of squalls

You don’t really see them at night. That’s one of the things that makes them so sneaky. What happens is you start to notice that the stars have disappeared. If it’s a big squall, a short time after you realize the stars are gone, it then seems like you’re sailing down into a long, dark tunnel. It gets very dark and ominous. You start to feel the wind cool and then a few raindrops. At this point, you have about 30 seconds to assess the sail combination that you have up and decide if it’s going to work for the gusts. If not, you have to reef/reduce sail fast. If the sails are set right, then you duck down below and start closing the port holes (12 of them), hatches (2) and put the companionway boards in place before the deluge starts. You don’t want the boat to get wet down below, because in the tropics in this humidity, it will never get dry.

So, if you got it all right, when the wind hits it’s Nantucket Sleigh Ride time. If not, Charisma goes wildly out of control, overpowering the wind vane steering and you have to go fight the buckets of rain to change something to get back into control.

At night the powerful squalls develop right in front of your eyes from that little “dark spot” you hardly noticed where the stars started to disappear into a huge looming beast. At that point you feel like Captain Kirk on the Starship Enterprise preparing to battle a giant cosmic wormhole or be blasted into another dimension. “Spock, what is it?” “Logically Captain, it shouldn’t exist” Ann doesn’t like squalls. (Now Ann speaks-true statement! They sneak up on you and Charisma and Wilson start rocking and rolling. I want to let Bob sleep but I can’t help thinking there is something else I should do to ease the impact. I get the boat shut up tightly but at times she just keeps heeling. Having experienced the ITCZ in Charisma I know she can handle it. But it still can take my breath away and I utter numerous prayers through the squalls.)

So, what about that Time Machine thing (oh yeah that’s right, the title of this post). Ann was looking at me the other morning and said; “What have you done? You look younger!” Ironically, I was downloading the pictures of our equator crossing and thinking the same thing; that Ann looked ten years younger (I’m guessing at the ten year thing, since I didn’t know her ten years ago, but it looks about right). Amazing but true. We’re getting younger. Maybe one of those squalls DID have a cosmic wormhole in it and we went through! Tonight’s dinner plans changed given the swells. We opted for Mac n’ Cheese with fried Spam. See Jerry, sometimes we eat the basics! Of course it went great with the last of the nice white wine from Free Spirit Dave!

Position: 03 degrees, 48 minutes South; 129 degrees, 51 minutes West (134 NM day)

Squalls started at about 0200 local time this morning and continued all into the early afternoon. Quite a breezy day. So once again we’re down to double reef and 40% jib and still doing about 7.5 knots although on average for the day we’re more at 6 knots.

Ann worked very hard today. She got bored on her early morning watch (2 am -6:3-0 am) so cleaned out the icebox and the head, then in the afternoon did a bunch of laundry. Makes me look like a slacker, although I did catch and process a fish. We think it was a Skipjack. Not one of my favorites, it’s a bit strong tasting, but I marinated it in lemon wasabi and cooked it with sautéed red onions, then served it on leftover rice and hominy. Ended up pretty good (and hey; “Free Spirit Dave”, we opened the wine you gave us tonight with the fish. Delicious!). Tomorrow, the other half of the fish will be cooked Veracruz style with chopped tomatoes, garlic and whatever else I can find over pasta.

Ann’s doing the nightly net right now. She’s getting pretty good with the radio. She has a five o’clock call with some of her friends on “8 Bravo” to chat up what they’ve been doing today and now she’s reporting in for us on the nightly net on” 8 Alpha” where we report our position each day at 0200 Zulu. It’s kind of a combination of a safety call where all the 20 or so boats that are enroute to Marquesas right now can check in. It’s also a chance to catch up with how everyone’s doing. The boats on the net are spread out from one that is due to make landfall tomorrow (after 37 days!) to one that just left Mexico a couple days ago and is probably a couple hundred miles out.

Messages: Jerry, I can totally see you “heaving to” in your Durango. Love it! I can also see you with a patch over one eye and a Popeye hat, but that’s another story. Joan: Landfall expected sometime in the next 5 or 6 days. And we’re excited the bike is getting a workout. And the bread has been yummy! Angela: Your posts are getting through and we are glad to have you following. We love comments! Cliff – tell the 5 am spin class to keep pedaling – the winds are really pushing us along. I guess Shellbacks move faster! Sue – Did Andy enjoy being on Charisma (new and improved) in your dream? Too funny!

Position: 02 degrees, 28 minutes South; 128 degrees, 01 minutes West (made 144 NM in last 24 hours)

We may not be catching a lot of fish, but they're jumping all over the deck at night. here's a flying fish that landed on the cabin top.

Yup, a nice, easy day even though it’s fairly windy and we’ve been averaging around 7.5 knots broad reaching with one reef in the main. Very sunny as a matter of fact. We’re both “hiding” from the sun today as it’s been so intense. We took advantage of the good weather by taking bucket baths in the cockpit. Usually, we bath up on the foredeck where there’s more room, but it’s also been windy and there’s a bit of a cross-swell which causes the boat to lurch unexpectedly, so it’s safer in the cockpit.

Ann has a nice new daily event. A couple of the other boats have organized an informal “afternoon chatternet” where they have some social interaction. They have a chance to compare notes on boat life and have a lot of fun keeping in touch. One of the other boats announced that they pulled in one of their fishing lines only to find just half a fish left on the lure. Oops. Well, not an hour later I pulled our hand-line in and; no lure! It had a wire leader that had been severed. I’m not sure whether by strength or teeth and probably don’t want to know as either are “no bueno”. Lost a really good lure.

Also, Ann made Apple Cinnamon Beer Bread. It came out great. We’re looking forward to toasting it for breakfast slathered with butter. Yum!

Pretty quiet day. Nice chance to recover from the last four or five very busy ones. That’s how Shellbacks roll!

OK, Shellbacks rule, Pollywogs drool. Adios till tomorrow (or maybe I should say; “bon souire”. We need to work on our French very soon (including the spelling).

As of 1700 Zulu (or about 9AM San Francisco time) we crossed the equator. We now have a picture of the GPS reading 00 00S, 126 05 West. Woo Hoo! Ann and I are now Shellbacks. Here’s how the event unfolded.

Decorating Charisma for the crossing

This is it...

Crossing the equator with King Neptune...

...and his lovely Mermaid "Bobarina"...

...from Polliwogs to Shellbacks...

...fun and silliness abounds when Charisma crossed the equator.

Last night when it became clear we would get to the equator in the dark, we sailed to within 14 miles, hove to at about 0045 hours and went to sleep. Charisma happily stopped for the night in the middle of the Paciific Ocean for about 7 hours. We all needed some rest anyway. Ann woke up at first light and got me up with the promise of fresh coffee. We sat in the cockpit and watched the sunrise with a crescent moon right above it. Had some of Ann’s homemade yogurt with granola and a mystery fruit that tastes like mango. Then, Ann announced that it was time! We went down below and dressed in our crossing costumes. Took some effort to get me into my bra (made of a small fruit hammock). Besides that, I had a mermaid skirt decorated with balloons and a wig made out of some old three strand rope I donated to the cause. Ann, AKA King Neptune had black and white striped knee socks, a sweeping cape (made from the bathroom curtain), a lovely silver crown (OK, aluminum foil over cardboard) and a fearsome trident based on the boat hook. Oh, she also had a beard applied by me with menthol shaving crème. A sight to behold, no question. Ann also decorated Charisma and she was thrilled to be sporting balloons on her headstay, which she is still proudly wearing as she prances down the trades toward Hiva Oa. The first booby (a red-footed one) we’ve seen in days was impressed and circled us numerous times. I’m guessing he decided this did NOT look like a safe place to land.

Once suitably dressed we sailed the five or so miles we needed to cover to get to the equator, having drifted about six miles during the night while hove to. Upon reaching the vaunted line, we mixed a Charisma for Neptune, each took a sip, gave Charisma a sip and poured the rest to old Neptune in thanks for our grand adventure. That was about a mile from the line. Once at the line, we took a picture of the GPS reading 00 00S and popped the Champagne. It tasted mighty nice and complemented by smoked oysters and crackers, a veritable feast to celebrate our transition from lowly pollywogs to mighty Shellbacks. Some silliness and picture taking ensued. Finally, we set the sails, engaged the wind vane and are now heading 190 degrees in 10 knots of Easterly wind at almost six knots. We’re going to go more South for a day to get well out of the doldrum influence and then turn to 214 degrees direct Hiva Oa. 944 miles to go. Our only issue at this point is whether to sandbag or not and slow down. Our group of about 8-10 boats left pretty much at the same point, but all the other boats are 44-50 feet and I anticipated they would go much faster than we could. Turns out after 17 days, we’re well out in front and now they are started to claim that the first boat in must make cocktails for the rest. Hmmm. What to do?

P.S. We weren’t able to go swimming at the equator and there was too much wind. The “coulda, shoulda, woulda meter” said we should have done that about sixty miles back while in the doldrums. Oh well, there will be lots of swimming going forward and maybe a quiet moment one day during this final leg.

Position: 00 degrees, 25 minutes North; 125 degrees, 13 minutes West

We’re very near actually being in the SOUTH Pacific. After getting out of the ITCZ storm belt, we had some easy sailing as we headed another hundred miles or so toward the equator. Yesterday, we were on the edge of the doldrums. With only 3-6 knots of wind, we put up the spinnaker and had a nice long run from 1500 all through the night until about 0400 when the wind came up for a while and we were able to use the jib. It was amazing. We were steering about 190 degrees which had us aiming right at the Southern Cross. An amazing constellation. Since it’s right on the polar axis, it rotates through the night, but doesn’t move across the sky. It’s always due South. Anyway, sometime in the late morning the wind finally, completely quit. After all we’re in the doldrums. So for the first time in 16 days, we used the engine to move us forward and motored for about four hours to get through the lack of wind. About 1600 we were only about 60 miles from the equator and seemed to have entered the edge of the trade-winds. Since then we have had a nice 10 knots breeze from the East, very warm weather and nice long period swells out of the Southeast. Since we’re so close to the equator and it’s now dark, we have a double reef in the main and rolled up most of the jib to just slow us down. We’re just chunking along at about 2 knots and sometime in the early hours, when we get to within about 5 miles or so, I’m going to heave to, go to bed and just wait until morning, so we can enjoy the crossing in the daylight.

We’re also waiting for daylight since there are the requisite ceremonies that must be performed to help our transformations from pollywogs to shellbacks. I made the grevious mistake of letting Ann be in charge of costumes again. Thus, she is going to be King Neptune and I find out, I’m to be…a mermaid. When will I learn? Oh well, all in good fun. We’ll take pictures. We also have champagne being chilled, etc, etc. so tomorrow is a big day. Then on to the final push. We’re less than 1000 miles. Since all of this time will be in the trades, we’ll expect 100++ mile days which puts us in Hiva Oa sometime within the next (my guess) 7 to 9 days. We’ll see.

Oh, and the Tuna was most excellent.

Been a wild last four days, here’s some of the recap:

4/12-We’re doing 6 knots now under furled jib poled out to starboard and storm trysail. The main is sea-furled and lashed to the boom. Nice to be back a little more under control now, but even with this, we’re still hitting lots of 8’s and 9’s and even a few 10’s coming down the steep waves.

It got squally last night right after roll call. Charisma started surfing down the waves hitting 10 knots. Initially Wilson was doing a pretty good job of steering so I decided to leave the main up, since the alternative at that point was going up on deck at night in the squalls and waves to take down the main. I was hoping conditions wouldn’t deteriorate. Oops, they did. While my watch from 2200 to 0300 went OK, right about 0300 as Ann came on deck for her watch the squalls became much worse. I checked the radar to “see” what might be behind us and was rewarded with a picture of some big red blotches coming right at us. Red means heavy rain. Heavy rain out here also means lightning. Nice. We watched the red returns on the radar come towards us and then split, with one going to each side. Whew, dodged a bullet! Unfortunately the respite was short lived as just after the squalls passed, everything right, left, in front and behind went “red”. Squally weather had filled in everywhere and there was no more chance of avoidance. It had also gotten way too windy for even the double reefed main. Just too much force for the wind vane to manage. There’s just too much chance now for a major wipeout-we’d already taken a few little ones where we got a bit sideways coming down a wave. It was time to slow Charisma down. So at 0400 in shorts, tee shirt, flip flops (hey, we’re in the tropics) , harness and tether, I clipped into the jackline and made my way to the mast with Ann standing by on the mainsheet. It came down more easily than I thought it would and once furled and secured on the boom life seemed to get a little better on board now that Charisma had slowed to a more stately pace. Even though we had wind gusts to 35 knots, we now only had the equivalent of a couple of dinghy sails up, so I wasn’t so worried about the rig, or about wiping out on a steep wave. But, I didn’t know what still lay ahead. 4/13-It’s 1200 hours and we’ve already hove to twice. Once at 0600 and we’re hove to right now waiting out a big thunderstorm that’s right in front of us. Both times, the T-storms were so big there was no way to go around. We had to just stop Charisma and wait. Kind of nice actually after all the banging around of the last couple days to have an hour’s respite to relax and chill. The only downside is you’re not going anywhere, so that “1500 miles to go” doesn’t get any shorter.

It’s at this point with a new weather forecast in hand that I realized the ITCZ had” come up” to greet us. It moved a couple degrees North in the last 24 hours, so while we weren’t yet literally in it, we were in the “120 mile zone” that the forecasters said would see moderate to severe convection. “Convection” is such a mild word for what in reality means; “all hell will break loose”. Anyway, we’re well within the 120 mile zone, so for the first time in 13 days, we changed course. We jibed onto port tack and made a course of 170 degrees magnetic. Due South given the 09 degree deviation in this neck of the woods. Our goal; get through the ITCZ as fast as possible. Also the grib files were showing some promising weather on the other side of the ITCZ to help us get through the doldrums and down to the equator. I figured we’d use the radar to see the thunderstorms and sail around them on our way. Nothing could be much worse than the past couple days of squally weather. Right? Oops again.

We were still under a highly furled jib and storm trysail since the wind had not let up, the waves were still unnaturally steep for this area and we were anticipating some gusty weather. Thank goodness we kept the sails “small”. It didn’t take long before we were screaming downhill dodging squalls when one squall just ate us up. It enveloped us. No way out. We’re back to lightning and wind in the 20’s-30’s, but now also monsoonal rain. And it didn’t stop! Usually in trade-wind squally weather, you get something like this and it lasts for 15 minutes or so. This just went on and on and on. Finally I realized this wasn’t just a simple squall this time. This was our weather for the next 100 miles or so. After sitting in the cockpit for an hour or two watching this spectacle, I realized neither Ann nor I were dressed for this event. I just had shorts and a light nylon jacket (no shirt) and was getting chilled and Ann was due for her watch soon. We also hadn’t eaten in a while given the bumpy ride and the difficulty standing in the cabin, much less cooking. So again, for the third time in 24 hours we decided to heave to and wait things out a bit. So, we furled the jib, strapped in the trysail, set the helm to weather, locked it there and Charisma stopped and relaxed. It’s an amazing thing that you can do this in the middle of such weather, but nice to know. Gave us the chance to break out our foul weather gear (which had been stowed since we assumed we wouldn’t be using them in tropical weather. I also put on some thermal underwear as protection against chilling in the drenching rains) since this was going to be a very long night of storm chasing. Or was it BEING chased. I’m not sure. And we made dinner.

Ann and I have shared duties aboard. For the most part we split watches evenly and other shipboard stuff, but in heavy weather I handle the boat and she does support. In this case, that meant being extra help on deck in case of sail changes , but it also meant keeping coffee on the stove, hot food, and as it turns out plugging leaks. It rained so hard, we found leaks where I have never seen them before, like over several bunks that could soak the beds. So after dinner, I made my way to the cockpit for a long night managing the boat and Ann made sure we had hot food and drink, kept the leaks from soaking the bunks and monitored the radar looking for a path through the T-storms if one became available. It didn’t.

As soon as we started sailing again, there was an eerie lull in the storm. We were in the middle of some ugly looking clouds all around us, but the wind had subsided, and the seas got flatter. It was the last calm moment for the next 12 hours. Within 30 minutes the wind came up, we could start to hear the thunder and as darkness fell, see lightning all across the horizon. There was nowhere to go to avoid it, so I just steered our shortest course through; still due South toward the equator. Since the wind had lightened, I unfurled the jib to allow Charisma to keep up some speed to get through the zone, but now that night was falling, I could also feel and smell a change. The wind suddenly had dropped a good five degrees and there was an odd smell. Maybe ozone, I don’t know, but I knew we were about to get blasted, so quickly grabbed the furling line and pulled the jib down to its shortest usable furl, which is around 40%. Not a minute later we got hit by the first blast. The annenometer hit 25 knots and never went below it for at least the next two hours. Gusts went well into the 30’s. But the rain that started was unbelievable. Picture Charisma leaping forward in the darkness, rail in the water, small jib, and storm trysail pulling her along on a power reach at 6-8 knots in what were now flat seas due to the heavy rain. It just knocked all the waves flat. Then picture that water all around glowing from the volume of rain hitting so hard it was making the green phosphorescence from the plankton kick off. I’m just stunned by the sheer power of it all until jolted to reality by the lightning that was now above us, blinding me for 10-20 seconds with each bolt. The only thing I could see were the instruments and compass light right in front of my face. Thunder pounding on my ears. This finale of the past two days went on for about six hours and all we could do was ride it. By the time we came out the other side, I had only slept for about four hours in the past 48. The only things that kept me awake were Coffee, Red Bull and adrenaline, but as we sailed past the major squalls and left most of the lightning behind, I was seeing things and couldn’t keep awake any longer. Ann came up and drove through the last couple hours of darkness and the final squalls (including some lightning) so she had some time experiencing this storm first hand driving the boat (and she did great!)

So, ultimately I’ve sailed in more wind and larger seas, but have never seen such rain and lightning anywhere much less at sea. What I really liked was the storm trysail. This sail option is a great way to keep a short-handed boat under control in challenging conditions. I’m very glad to have rigged it and know we will use it again. The best part about it is how easy it was to hoist. It stays attached to the mast on its own track and we keep it rolled up in a sail bag, tied around the mast to keep out of the way. When I needed to put it up, I just dropped the main, swapped the halyard from the main to the trysail and attached the sheets, which were already rigged and tied off on the lifelines. Pull the halyard and you’re done. Even though Charisma was 100% prepared and I felt comfortable with how she handled in the winds and seas, I did feel some anxiety about the lightning. I was worrying about the unknown thought: “will the next one hit our mast and fry all the electronics or maybe blow out a through-hull?” I still don’t have the answer. I guess we were lucky since while most of the lightning stayed up in the clouds, each of us saw at least one bolt hit the water. Could have been us. That was what was really worrying me.

So, now that we’re past it, we are both in even more awe of nature’s power but also glad for the experience of a lifetime. After all, it’s not really an adventure if it’s easy.

Position: 01 degrees, 50 minutes North; 125 degrees, 40 minutes West

Our self portrait at 14 days out.

Well, the ITCZ “spit” us out the other side into a beautiful day. Sunny, warm, but not too much wind. We’ve been flying the spinnaker all day in about 5 knots of wind and making about 2.5-3 knots boat speed. At those speeds it’s very difficult to fly and way below the wind and speed needed to make the wind vane work, so it’s AutoBob on the helm. That’s my excuse today for not having time to really recount our amazing trip through the ITCZ and out the other side. We both feel as if we’ve been through Alice’s looking glass having ridden Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.

As you can see from the position, we have about 110 miles to the equator which we could make in one day, but between the ITCZ and the equator are the doldrums, so we’re not likely to be making the speed for a one day passage. Some folks say the ITCZ encompasses both, but there’s a distinctively different weather model between them. The former being crazed lightning, wind, squall, rain kind of weather and the latter being no wind kind of weather and the forecasts treat them as separate events. That’s why we made the turn South when we did. It looked like the ITCZ would be “smaller” to cross there and it looked like there might be wind on the other side to get us across the equator. So far both are happening as we have been able to sail the whole time.

Anyway, likely we’ll make the equator on Tuesday. We’ll even slow the boat down if needed to make it during daylight so we can enjoy the spectacle. Oh yes, Ann’s working on costumes to celebrate moving from Pollywogs to Shellbacks and there WILL be hazing. Since she’s in charge, she gets to be King Neptune and I’m a Mermaid. Oh the shame. Anyway, at least we’ll have a nice bottle of Champagne which is already in the fridge to celebrate with and hopefully a swim.

Just before dinner, I went to pull in our fishing line and I guess the action was enough to excite a Tuna that must have been eyeing it because; Bam! Tuna on the line. Not a very big one, but it breaks a streak of no luck. We think it’s a Blackfin Tuna, but not sure. So, like good carnivores, we’ll eat it and see if it tastes good. The meat looks very mild though, so I’m optimistic.

That’s it for now. I really will try to get a more complete account ready tomorrow.

(Written 4/13, Posted 4/14 We are now largely through the ITCZ)

Ann is happy the lightning and storms are over (so am I)

One of our favorite fans commiserated with our lumpy night and then specifically asked how I was doing. So sweet. My feet hurt, my muscles are sore. All of my muscles are sore. And I have bruises everywhere! This all comes from trying to maintain your balance while doing all that you normally do in a day. Okay, so on a boat that is limited, but we still eat and do dishes and laundry and keep things cleaned up. Even Bob is surprised by the confused seas. And you should see this boat rock! I am going to enter a bull riding contest at Cadillac Ranch when we get back. I have all of the moves down. We call this the boat diet or core work out. I was doing some daily exercises a week ago when the waters were calm and I was in need of entertainment as Bob napped. Thank goodness I was somewhat in shape when we hit this area. It is amazing, this movement. To accomplish simple tasks you must now wedge yourself in from several angles to stay secure. With previously incurred bruises this hurts. And still Charisma will react to an odd swell and send you flying. Today I decided I was not giving in to it. For three days I have had a note to make some bread but passed because of the rolling. Today I fought for it. I lost the first batch of starter due to a lurch but the dough is rising and I fully intend to wedge myself by the stove for the full 55 minutes that the pressure cooker needs to cook it. If I don’t stand there it will get launched. I should not be complaining given what Bob accomplishes. I still find myself waking him 10% of the time. He says they are good questions and concerns and is always helpful. It happens whenever the conditions change drastically. Last night he took and extra- long watch due to squally weather. By 04:30 when he woke me up to take over he thought we were past most of the thunder and lightning. Alas, 2 hours into his sleep I had to wake him up and we then ran from lightning for two hours! The exciting news is that Bob has determined that we are well into the ITCZ (so maybe it won’t be much worse?). So Bob checked the weather faxes and wind files and we made the big move to turn south to head straight across it! I would tell you exactly where we are but the GPS is in the oven to protect it from lightning right now. But we are past the half-way point!!! Ignoring yesterday’s rocking and rolling we ended up with a great day. Hit the half-way point, had a nice clear late afternoon to enjoy a “Charisma” to celebrate and we were treated to the squall showers. The water temperature is perfect. Especially because the boat is hot, having to be kept closed up because of the waves. And after the net check-in we got to chat with two other boats and get fun blog responses. As Bob said, I went to sleep a happy girl. I can’t believe I am doing this and really enjoying it. Here on day 13 I can say that there have only been two days that weren’t fun. One of these happened to be the anniversary of my sister, Bev’s passing. I thought being way out here on this great adventure that she would have loved that I would be fine. The whole day seemed to fight me. From spilling some hot water on me first thing in the morning to locking my poop in the bathroom! Yes, that happened. Sometimes it is easier on the plumbing to just toss it overboard (right Cliff?). So I stepped out of the bathroom to get a paper towel to complete the task and somehow locked the door. Of course Bob was asleep. I spent a half hour trying different keys when I realized it’s an easy lock to pick. As I went to go into the bathroom the boat lurched and my hand got slammed in the door. Ouch. It was just going to be that kind of a day. I kept looking for dolphins or fish or something to just let me know it was okay, to no avail. But that night, as I finished dishes and went up to look around for traffic, the 100% overcast sky had parted to show the Big Dipper. The Big Dipper was an analogy my Mom used to show how important all seven of us children were. And there we were. Obviously God is on this trip too! So, after listening to me ramble you now know why Bob also is responsible for writing the blogs!

What an adventure. Through the tough days I remember the words of wisdom I received from previous Puddle Jumpers: “This will soon pass” and “It will be worth the price!”. I’m loving most of it!